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by madasaboxofcats



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Found Families, Friendship, humor?, idk - Freeform, post-Samaritan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-04 01:21:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6635242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madasaboxofcats/pseuds/madasaboxofcats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fusco is pretty grateful that Shaw’s not actually dead because, god help him, he’s got a soft spot for her even though she thinks he’s a moron. So she’s alive – Finch told him last week – but he’s pretty sure the bozos with the guns that took her didn’t let her go willingly, so she’s probably in hiding somewhere.</p>
<p>And shopping online, apparently. </p>
<p>--</p>
            </blockquote>





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Fusco has always considered himself a pretty observant guy, thank you very much. Being a detective and all (and a not half-bad one, either), it kinda comes with the territory. 

So when an Amazon package lands on his desk, containing one of those pull up bars that you put in your doorway, it doesn’t take him long to figure out whose it is. It sure as hell isn’t his – he’s not sure he’s ever done a pull up in his life – and he can really only think of one person who gets her rocks off on that sort of thing. 

Look, it’s not like he has a habit of opening mail that isn’t his – he’s got a buddy from the Academy who is a fed now and who rants all the time about mail fraud like it’s interesting or something – but the box was addressed to “Det. Lionel Fusco, 8th Precinct, NYPD” and how the hell was he supposed to know? 

He asks her later why she didn’t just send it to his buddy Detective Riley or to Lady Cuckoo Clock because they both know where she lives (and therefore how to get her crap actually to her, which is probably something she wants), she just shrugs. “More fun to mess with you, Lionel.” 

He doesn’t ask her why she doesn’t have her own junk delivered to her own address. He’s not sure he wants to know the answer. 

Except he does kind of know because the last time he saw her, she was kissing Root – and yeah, he’s an observant guy, but he definitely did not see that one coming – and pulling some showy heroism out of her ass to save them all. Which he appreciated because, all in all, being alive is pretty great and he got to catch his kid actually get the puck in the freaking net at his game the following week. So yeah, he’s pretty grateful. 

He’s also pretty grateful that Shaw’s not actually dead because, god help him, he’s got a soft spot for her even though she thinks he’s a moron. So she’s alive – Finch told him last week – but he’s pretty sure the bozos with the guns that took her didn’t let her go willingly, so she’s probably in hiding somewhere. 

And shopping online, apparently. 

He pulls the weird bar thing out of the box and sees a note – one of those notes Amazon lets you leave if you say it’s a gift – flutter out and land on the floor. He bends over, picks it up. 

_Lionel – Give this to Reese, tell him if he doesn’t deliver it to me pronto, I’ll hide Bear from him for a week. And don’t open any more packages that aren’t yours. It’s a federal offense._

“It had my name on it,” he grumbles.

Reese looks up from his desk where he is, for once in his fake cop career, doing paperwork. “Something the matter, Lionel?” 

He shoves the bar back into the Amazon box and dumps it on his partner’s desk. “Package for Shaw.” 

John looks alarmed for a minute, like he’s ready to call in the bomb squad to make sure someone from the Bad Guy Brigade (he thinks he remembers Finch referring to them as “Decima” once, but he Googled it and didn’t see why a bunch of techno nerds would shoot and abduct Shaw, so he figured he must have heard wrong) isn’t sending Shaw something explode-y. 

“Does it say who it’s from?” 

Fusco points at the return label on the box where it says, very clearly, _Amazon Fulfillment Services_. “Amazon. Via Shaw. It’s a pull-up bar.” 

It looks like that means something to Reese because he stops with the concerned/constipated look and almost smiles a little.

“She broke a pipe the other day, almost gave Finch a hernia.” 

Fusco barks out a laugh. “I woulda paid good money to see Glasses’ reaction to that.” 

Reese’s ghost of a smile turns into more of a smirk. “Call Root. I’m sure she’s got it on video.” 

Reese takes the package, taps on his ear, and walks away.

Later, when Fusco gets on his computer to buy Lee’s birthday present, he discovers a $69.99 charge from “Iron Gym Upper Body Workout” and a subscription to Amazon Prime.

\--- 

The second package is handed to him by Special Agent Augusta King with a grin and an “I wouldn’t look in there if I were you, Lionel.” 

It’s from Amazon again, at least according to the return label, and Root says she found it on his desk, but Fusco isn’t ready to take anything at face value these days. It could be from Amazon, it could be from some crazy bad guys, it could be from Root (and what kind of a name is that, really? But he tried to ask what her real name was and Shaw nearly shot him in the mouth). Who the hell knows with those two. 

He’s made a pretty concerted effort to keep his nose of their…whatever it is. He’s happy that Shaw is happy or whatever, but he really doesn’t need to know what exactly Root is doing to cause that happiness. He thinks it probably involved knives based on the one conversation he overheard on accident and he’s really tried to banish all thoughts about it from his mind because it is 1000% not his business. 

But with a sentence like “I wouldn’t look in there if I were you,” how is he supposed to resist? 

It’s probably more workout gear. Or maybe towels. She was complaining about towels when they were staking out the mayor’s kid last week. Something about Finch only stocking big fluffy towels that are too long and cover too much and how is a person supposed to get any ventilation?

He’s never heard somebody complain about towels being too fluffy before, but he’s never really met anybody like Shaw, either. 

He’s seen her three times since she got back. The first time, she’d been pale and thin and said maybe six words. Finch did most of the talking, and if he hadn’t known better, he’d have sworn whoever took her had sucked the life right of her. 

But she’s Shaw, and he’s never known anyone so resilient. 

So when he saw her the second time and she was almost back to normal, he wasn’t all that surprised. She ate two hamburgers, her own fries, and half of his. She didn’t even pretend to wait until he’d turned his back to start stealing from his plate. 

The third time was that overheard conversation about the knives and yeah, he’s going to pretend that didn’t happen.

So when he opens the Amazon package and sees a purple dildo and some leather thing with a bunch of straps and buckles and shit, he slams the box lid shut immediately and wishes he could erase the last thirty seconds from his brain. 

He’s not a prude or whatever, but it’s Shaw and she’s kind of like a sister or whatever and there are some things he just doesn’t need to know. 

He picks up the note that fluttered out of the box when he closed it. When he reads it, he pictures Shaw’s smirk. The little punk. 

_She told you not to look, Lionel._

\--- 

By the time he gets the third package, he’s clued in on what’s going on. 

The basics, anyway. He had to stop Finch from getting all technical because, let’s be real, he didn’t care that much about _how_ some wonky computer robot is taking over the world, he just cares that it is and that it’s going to make his life pretty shitty. 

But hey, at least he knows what’s up. 

He patted himself on the back just a little when he found out because “weird computer thing” had been his first guess on how their vigilante justice team got their intel. Score one for the Fusco. 

Their abandoned subway hideout is pretty cool, although anyone with half a brain could guess their supernerd password. He told Finch to change it but when he gets to the vending machine and punches in 314, it swings right open and he sighs. For a bunch of brainiacs, they really are idiots sometimes. 

He bends down and picks up the Styrofoam crate that he’d lugged over here and climbs through the opening, doing his best not drop the package, fall on his ass, or both. 

What’s in this crate is more precious to Shaw than basically anything else, probably, except maybe guns, and he’s not going to be responsible for even a scratch to the outside packaging. 

When it showed up, plopped on his desk by some delivery guy who gave no consideration at all to the pile of reports already sitting there, Fusco read the return address and dropped everything he had been planning to do so he could rush to the subway and deliver it promptly. He grumbled about it to Reese, who muttered something like “You know Shaw” and continued to do his non-NYPD work. 

Fusco had never heard of Omaha Steaks, never even considered ordering steak from anywhere but the damn grocery store like a normal person, but they looked like pretty decent slabs of meat, from what he could tell (yeah, he looked, curiosity got the better of him, whatever – it had his name on it, so he had a right to look, and it couldn’t get much worse than the last time) and he was ready to lay down his life to ensure that the box got to Shaw safely. 

Okay, laying down his life would be a little dramatic. But whatever. She saved his kid once, so he figures he’ll probably owe her favors forever. Maybe his captain will yell at him when he gets back for taking a longer-than-protocol-allows lunch break, but he won’t give a rat’s ass because it’s Shaw and she’s worth it. 

(She doesn’t hold it over his head like he might have expected, though, no comments about “Hey Lionel, I need another box of 9s and by the way, remember that time I saved your kid from a nasty death?” like maybe saving a kid is worth something by itself, even to someone as oddly wired as Shaw.) 

He’s pretty glad she’s not dead, all in all, even though becoming her personal delivery service is kind of annoying.

\--- 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know what this is, guys.


End file.
